House of Cards
by JDSampson
Summary: Frank's looking for a change which includes an illicit night on the beach with a girl he just met in Mexico. Unfortunately for him, his dream date turns into a horrible nightmare for him and his whole family.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This is based on the TV universe, where I assume that the boy's mother is deceased. I also realize that in spots, this sort of sounds like my last fic, but I think I'm still finding my way here and I think this is a much better story than **_**A Cavern Dark Enough**_**. I'm just so excited with how the story has been flowing. I hope you're surprised by the twists and turns and I'd love to have your comments.**

**The Hardy Boys: House of Cards**

"Where's your brother? We're going to miss our flight if we don't get going soon." Fenton Hardy set his suitcase down on the brightly colored, tiled floor right next to Joe's bag and his briefcase which he'd brought down earlier.

They'd all over slept but at least he and Joe had had time for breakfast and cup of coffee while Frank was yet to put in an appearance.

"I warned him not to stay out so late last night," Joe said as he headed up the sweeping staircase. "I was back here and in bed by eleven."

"Yes, you're the good son," said Fenton. "For a change. Now will you roust him please and tell him he has less than twenty minutes to get his act together."

"Will do," Joe called as he rounded the top of the stairs and disappeared down the long hall.

That was the Villa Rivera, long halls, tall ceilings, huge chandeliers and works of art that took up entire walls. And outside, it was lush gardens, an Olympic size swimming pool and an exquisite view of the ocean. It was paradise, for more reasons than Fenton could count but now they had to go, with the primary reason for his visit still undone.

"Carlos is bringing the car around," Marguerite Rivera said as she came around from a door under the stairs. "And Louise packed a lunch for the three of you, because she says airplane food is terrible." She handed Fenton a paper bag. She was a beautiful young woman of thirty, thick black hair that she wore lose around her shoulders and perpetually tan skin thanks to her heritage and a south of the border sun that never wanted to leave the sky.

"Has Louise ever been on a plane?"

"Never. As far as I know, she's never left the borders of this town. I think—" She was interrupted by galloping footsteps coming down the upstairs hall.

"He's not in his room," Joe called as soon as he was within sight of his father. "His bed hasn't even been slept in. Frank never came back last night!"

"Now hold on," Fenton said, always the voice of reason. "Maybe he got up early and made his bed. He could be out walking on the grounds or sneaking in one last swim."

"No way. His bed was made by an expert, sharp corners and perfect folds. Frank didn't do that." Joe reached the bottom step then stopped there so he had an inch on his father. "I'm telling you, he didn't sleep in that bed. Something's happened to him."

"You're jumping to conclusions," Fenton replied with a little less confidence than before. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

"He probably met a girl," said Marguerite.

"And what?" Joe cut in. "He spent the night with her? No. Not Frank."

Marguerite lifted an eyebrow in response but Joe wasn't having it.

"He's not going to sleep some girl he just met, he's not like that. And he certainly wouldn't leave us to worry about him and he especially wouldn't make us miss our flight."

Fenton frowned and shook his head, his own calm demeanor slipping slightly. "Joe's right. I've never known Frank to get swept away like that over a girl."

Marguerite's well-manicured eyebrow rose to an even higher arch. "And maybe he simply didn't feel comfortable calling his father to say I'm sleeping in someone else's bed tonight, I'll see you in the morning. Discussing your sex life with your family is tricky business." There was a sharp point at the end of that stick and Fenton felt the poke loud and clear.

A phone jangled somewhere deep in the house and a moment later the housekeeper appeared.

"Miss Marguerite, Captain Rivera is calling for you."

Victor Rivera was the chief of police and he was also Marguerite's uncle. A couple of years ago, he had helped Fenton locate a missing college student from Boston University. The boy's parents had hired Fenton, sure that their son was in dire danger but it turned out he simply wanted to get away from the pressures of home and school in favor of cold beers and fishing trips.

Right now, he hoped that he'd find an equally innocuous and ridiculous reason for his own son's disappearance.

"That's got to be about Frank," Joe said, worry lacing his tone, "It's too early in the morning for a social call."

He and Fenton followed Marguerite into the living room. She picked up the receiver on an ornate, old fashioned phone, one that would make it impossible for them to hear anything but her side of the conversation. To frustrate them even further, she spoke in Spanish that was too intricate and fast for Joe to pick out anything more than his brother's name.

The call lasted less than two minutes but it felt like time had ground to a halt. Joe even startled when the grandfather clock in the room chimed 9 times. They were going to miss their flight.

"Looks like Frank did get into some trouble," she told the Hardy's after hanging up. "Uncle Victor says a patrol car stopped Frank about twenty minutes ago. He was driving erratically and he was very agitated when they spoke to him."

"Agitated?" Fenton repeated, that didn't sound like his oldest at all. Frank was usually very calm and in control.

"The officers don't speak much English but they got that he'd been attacked, a mugging they figured or a carjacking gone wrong and that he was trying to find his way back here but he got lost. They're bringing him now."

Fenton sighed. "I don't know whether to be relieved they found him or more worried about what happened to him." He turned to Joe. "What I don't understand is why you boys split up last night?"

Good question. One that Joe had pondered for several hours before falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning. He shifted his gaze from his father to the intricate pattern on the living room carpet. "It was nothing. Frank wanted to stay longer at the club and I didn't, so I caught a cab back here."

It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole story either and Fenton knew it. He hit Joe with his, 'I'm still waiting for an answer' look which never failed to illicit the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"We had a fight, but it was nothing. I sang with the band last night and Frank made a crack about it. I know he was joking but it rubbed me the wrong way and it just escalated from there. I don't know, he was in a weird mood and I just . . . " Joe sighed. The argument had gotten pretty heated but now he wished he could take it all back.

"Was he drinking?" asked Marguerite

"A little."

"Wait," Fenton snapped. "He was drinking and you left him with the keys to the car?"

"He had a couple of beers!" Joe shot back, voice rising in both volume and pitch. "I may be his brother but I'm not his keeper. He made that perfectly clear last night. He said he was sick of me always tagging around like we're joined at the hip or something."

"Frank said that?"

"Well, not in those words," Joe said, backpedaling a little. "But that's how it sounded, to me anyway." And it had hurt more than he wanted to admit. For as long as Joe could remember, he'd been at his brother's side. Even though they both had their own interests, they'd always found a way to share them. Frank surfed, Joe took pictures of the competition. Joe sang with the band and Frank. . . well, he always meant to listen even though 9 times out of 10 he was gone before the end of the set. Still, when you added up the hours, the two of them had spent more time together than apart and it was an arrangement that was fine with Joe.

Frank, on the other hand, was starting to get itchy. Most guys his age were off in college or starting families of their own. Joe couldn't really blame him for wanting some alone time, but he worried that it was just the first step toward a much bigger split.

"I should have stayed with him. Then this wouldn't be happening."

"We don't even know what happened yet, so don't beat yourself up."

They all tensed at the sound of the front door opening, but it turned out to be Carlos, the driver. In broken English, he reminded them that they had a flight to catch and Marguerite told him the trip was off.

Carlos didn't ask why. He simply nodded his understanding then left the room, only to return moments later with Frank and two police officers.

Frank looked like a man who had had a rough night. He'd gone out wearing a crisp white shirt, a jacket and sharply creased trousers. Now, the jacket was gone. The white shirt was dirty, wrinkled and splotched with greasy stains and his pants looked like they were wet down one side. His usually well-styled hair was windblown and tangled, his lip was cracked open and there was a dark bruise on his chin. But with all of that, it was his eyes that really told the story. The sparkling blue was buried beneath a glistening glaze.

"Dad."

Fenton met him half way and was as surprised as everyone when Frank threw his arms around him.

"I kept picturing your face, thinking about you having to tell Joe. . .I can't. . . I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save her." Frank stepped back from his father and there were tears running down his face. He reached out to Joe who had come in close then slipped his hand behind his brother's neck and pulled him to his shoulder in an awkward half hug. "I can't believe I'm standing here. They-" His words twisted into a choking cough.

"Easy, son. Let's take this a little slower, okay?" Fenton signaled for Joe to help him get Frank to the couch. He heard Marguerite speaking in Spanish to the officers and when he looked their way they were all gone.

"They killed her," Frank said into the air and then he found his focus again. "They were going to kill me, too but one of them didn't like it. He helped me get away but I couldn't save her."

Fenton pulled a footstool up so he could sit facing his son while Joe took the seat on the couch beside him.

"Tell us what happened. From the beginning. You were at the club," he prompted.

"Joe and I had a fight." Frank glanced at his brother but quickly turned his gaze back to the floor. "He left and I met this girl. . . well, I met her a couple of days ago at the beach. But she was at the club last night, Lisa. She's from Chicago and we started talking and later she asked me to drive her home." Frank swallowed hard which led to another short coughing spell.

"Here," Marguerite handed him a glass of water. She had also returned with a bowl of water and a washcloth which she set on the coffee table.

Frank's hand shook as he downed the water, the glass banging against his teeth in an uneven rhythm. With his right hand lifted, they could see that the cuff of his dress shirt was dotted with blood. It was the same for his other hand.

Gently, Fenton unbuttoned the left cuff then peeled back the sleeve to reveal a bloody, red welt around Frank's wrist.

Frank handed the empty glass back to Marguerite with one hand, while Fenton bathed the other wrist with cool water from the washcloth. "They tied me up. I struggled to get loose for hours but I couldn't."

"Let's back up. You left the club with Lisa," Fenton prompted softly. "You drove her home."

"Yeah. We drove along the coast road and she asked me to stop at this one spot. It was beautiful. This long stretch of empty beach. There was a full moon. The ocean sounded like it was breathing. We were just going to sit on the sand and enjoy it for a little while." Frank hesitated as Fenton held his chin and gently swabbed the cool, wet cloth over his face. "We um. . . " He lifted his hand to make his father stop. "We got lost in each other, you know. I didn't see the guy until he was on me. He stuck a gun in my back, made Lisa blindfold me and tie my hands. I didn't fight him. I figured he'd have to put the gun down to tie her hands and then I'd make a move. But he wasn't alone. As soon as he had control of me, the others showed up. Three of them, I think. They put us in a van and drove to a place a few minutes away. I don't where. It was cold and echoy. The floor was concrete, damp." Frank shifted on the couch as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair. When he brought his hand down, he set his eyes on Joe who looked like he was barely holding it together himself.

Too tough.

Frank shifted so he could look straight at his father and no one else.

"They took turns with her," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I could hear it all. They wanted me to hear it all. That was part of the fun. She kept calling my name. Begging me to help her. To stop them." He shifted again, this time turning sideways on the couch away from all of the horrified looks. He stuck his thumbnail in his mouth and bit down on the edge. Fenton reached for him but Frank batted his hand away.

"She was screaming and the sound bounced around the building and it was like there were dozens of her all around the room. And then she was quiet. And one of the guys started freaking out; he was screaming at the other one that this wasn't part of the plan. He didn't sign up for murder. The other one laughed at him and said, 'well you're in it now and the sentence is the same for two as it is for one.'"

Again Fenton reached out and this time Frank didn't push him away.

"I guess I knew from the start that I wasn't ever going home but when I heard him say it. . . when I realized that Lisa was dead, so they had nothing to lose, I . . . " He swallowed hard and swiped at a his eyes with his sleeve. Fenton pushed another glass of water into his hands but he only got down a few sips. "Next thing I know I've got a gun to my head. I could smell it."

The couch cushions dipped. It was Joe, getting up and walking away.

"Then they all started arguing and one said that it would make things worse. I couldn't identify them and if they dumped Lisa's body there would be no proof. One of them even suggested that I might end up taking the fall for her murder. Young American in a foreign country. The last one to see her alive. Not a bad plan. Everyone at the club saw me leave with her."

Frank took a deep breath then shifted back around. Fenton was still perched on the edge of the footstool but Joe had moved to sit on the arm of the loveseat. Marguerite was sitting there and Joe had her hand clutched in his lap.

"They couldn't agree on what to do with me and so they decided to party instead. They drank and laughed with Lisa laying dead right in front of them." He looked down at himself then plucked at his ruined shirt with two fingers. "They insisted I join them for a couple of rounds." There was a new, dark, coldness to his voice as if he were no longer describing events he'd lived through but a tale he'd heard someone tell. "They all fell asleep eventually, or passed out and I knew it was my last chance to get away but I just couldn't break free. Then one of them came and got me. He didn't say anything, just dragged me back to the van. For all I knew he was taking me out to kill me, some place where he could easily dump my body when it was done. But he took me back to the beach then cut a couple of strands of the cord around my wrists so it frayed. It took me a little time to break through. Time for him to get away. I went back to the car and just sat there for a while, I didn't know what to do. It was daylight and I really just wanted to get back here but I got lost and frustrated. I think I cut off a cop car which is why they came after me."

"I'm glad they did," Marguerite said softly.

"We didn't know you weren't home until I went to wake you this morning," said Joe. "I should have checked sooner."

"Wouldn't have made a difference," said Frank. "Marguerite, I need to talk to your Uncle. We have to find out who did this. . . to Lisa."

"He'll be here soon. Why don't you go upstairs and get cleaned up in the meantime. Put on some fresh clothes and have some breakfast. You'll feel better."

Frank got to his feet but made no move to step away from the couch.

"Come on," said Joe. "I'll go with you."

That got him moving; right to the doorway then he turned back. "I feel like they've done this before. But without the murder. That was new and except for the one guy, I think they liked it. Which means they'll do it again."

"We'll catch them before that happens," said Fenton and as he finished the clock chimed.

"We missed our flight," Frank said flatly.

"Doesn't matter." Fenton stood and nearly followed the boys out of the room watching them until they had disappeared around the bend at the top of the steps then he went back into the living room and wandered aimlessly until Marguerite caught hold of him

"Breathe, Fenton."

He took a long, exaggerated breath but it did little to break up the tightness in his chest. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to sit so calmly and listen to all of that. I just wanted to scream and hug him and go out and find those bastards that did this to my son."

She moved closer then slid her hands up and over his shoulders kneading away at the knots there. "You did good. You kept your cool and that's what he needs right now."

"For sport, Ree. They tortured my son and killed that innocent girl for fun." He sounded like he was going to choke on the words. "Sick, sick people and can you imagine what Frank went through being held like that thinking he's going to die. I—" He looked down at her and then realized what he was saying. "Oh, Ree, I am a stupid man."

"No. That was a long time ago and my life has been amazing since. Especially lately."

He smiled slightly as he brought his hand up under her chin, after a quick glance toward the doorway, he set a gentle kiss on her lips. She responded with more than he was giving, pressing up to her toes to gain some height. She crossed her arms behind his neck, forcing him to stay close when she felt him start to pull away.

"Unhand that woman!"

They both startled, breaking apart as if they'd been caught by their parents, or more accurately, his sons. It turned out to be neither.

Captain Victor Rivera moved toward them like a soldier inspecting the troops. "Am I to take it from this display that the secret is no more?"

"The secret is still a secret," Fenton replied. "And right now we have much bigger issues to deal with."

"Is that so?"

Marguerite took her Uncle by the hand. "I think this is best discussed in the garden." She turned him around and led him back out into the foyer beckoning for Fenton to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE: As you saw in the last part, I have a soft spot for Edmund Gilbert who played Fenton and decided he needed some romance in his life. Now on with the show. (grr, page breaks are giving me trouble. Sorry)  
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**The Hardy Boys: House of Cards: Chapter Two**

"Frank, I'm sorry about what happened at the club," Joe said as they walked to the room that had been Frank's for the past three weeks. "If I hadn't gotten mad, I would have stayed and none of this would have happened."

"It's not your fault. I was pushing your buttons on purpose. I don't know why." And he really didn't. He and Joe were best friends, closer than any two people he'd ever met and yet, for some reason, little brother had been getting on his nerves lately.

Frank stripped off his shirt the moment he entered his room then tossed it on the bed. His shoes and socks came off next then he went into the bathroom and shut the door. On second thought he locked the door. Not a rational move, but he had bigger thoughts to ponder.

He started the shower then stripped off the rest of his clothes. That revealed a clump of bruises around his thigh and his right knee was swollen. He had a vague memory of smacking his knee hard when he was thrown down on the cement floor. Add Aspirin to the things he needed to consume at breakfast.

The shower, like everything at Villa Rivera, was large and luxurious. Back home, he showered standing in a tub from the 1950's. Here, he was standing on glazed tiles in a space that was the size of four phone booths. The water was hot and it rained down with needle sharpness that felt good on his sore muscles. Now, with his adrenaline waning, he could feel every ache. His back was particularly bad as was the slice around his left wrist. When the soap hit raw flesh it burned like the dickens but at least it proved one important thing. He was alive.

Lisa wasn't.

And he wasn't going to leave this town until he had his revenge on all three of the monsters who were responsible.

* * *

><p><strong># # # <strong>

"Madre de dios, Fenton, forgive me, when my men called to say they'd found your son on the road, I had no idea."

They were sitting in the garden at the back of the house and Marguerite had just finished retelling Frank's tale. Fenton had listened quietly, offering additional details now and then but mostly minding his coffee. Hearing the story for the second time didn't lessen the blow and it actually seemed uglier when told amid the delicate roses and vibrant butterflies.

"He did not see any of assailants," Rivera said, thinking out loud, "but he heard them speak. English?"

That caught Fenton's full attention. "You know, you're right. Frank mentioned several things he heard them say, so they had to be speaking English, his Spanish isn't that good."

"Excellent. That will narrow the focus. Most of our homegrown thugs speak nothing but their native tongue." He picked up his coffee cup and then leaned back for a leisurely sip. It might seem to the world that he was relaxing, but both Fenton and Marguerite knew him well enough to know the gears were turning.

"Frank thought the whole incident was too well organized to be their first time. Have there been any other incidents like this, abductions and assaults that didn't end up in murder?"

"There was a case a few months ago. A tourist from London. His hotel reported him missing but he showed up a day later, checked out and flew home without making a complaint. Anything more than that, I'd have to look up. But first, we need to discover the identity of our victim. Lisa? A last name?"

"He didn't say." Fenton refilled his cup from a carafe that the cook had left on the table. "All he told us was Lisa and she was from Chicago."

"I don't know her last name." Frank came over to the table with Joe on his heels. "Captain Rivera."

"Frank. My niece has filled me in on the details of your ordeal. I can't tell you how much it pains me to know of such horrendous dealings in my city."

The boys took the empty seats across from their father as Marguerite stood and excused herself. "I'll see to breakfast."

Rivera poured coffee in a fresh cup then set it in front of Frank. "I'm sure right now, the whole evening is a jumble, but you're a very observant young man and I'd bet that you know more than you think you do."

"Probably." Frank added cream and sugar to the coffee but didn't take a sip. "I heard them talking a lot."

"In English," Rivera prompted. "Good English?"

"Yes!" Frank said, lighting up for the first time since he'd come home. "You're right. The one who killed Lisa, his English was perfect and his accent was American."

"Like yours?" Rivera tapped his finger against the side of Frank's cup.

"No, some other part of the country. I can't place it though." Frank lifted the cup to his lips but instead of drinking he let the steam and the earthy smell play across his face. "Southern maybe but not twangy. Not deep South."

"It will come to you. What about the others?"

"The one who helped me, his English was almost too perfect, like he'd learned it in school but it wasn't his first language."

"A very interesting observation and very telling. They might have been tourists themselves, or students who come for the party boats. We get many of them this time of year." Rivera shifted his gaze to the younger Hardy. "And what say you of all of this, Joseph?"

Joe popped up like he'd been caught napping in class. "Me? I only know what Frank's told us."

"Not true. Marguerite said that you were at the club with your brother last night. It's likely this is where Frank and the young lady were chosen. Don't you think?"

"Maybe, but they couldn't have known they stop at that beach. More likely they were hanging around the cove waiting for someone to fall into the trap. Lisa knew that stretch was easily accessible but still secluded enough that they wouldn't be disturbed. . . well. . I'm sure other people have had the same thought."

"A sandy lover's lane." He threw a look at Frank who had his face hidden in his coffee cup. "There's no shame in wanting to share the moonlight with a beautiful young woman. She was beautiful?"

"Very," said Frank. "Long blonde hair, green eyes, except she had this crazy lipstick that made her lips look blue. She said it reminded her of when she was a kid and she'd play in the snow too long." He smiled at the memory then it quickly slipped away. "She was 22, 23, 5'5", 110, 120lbs." All facts and business now. "She was wearing a yellow dress with a black, printed, silk shawl. I didn't see that on the beach afterward, so they must have taken it."

"That's very good." Rivera gave Frank's arm a clap. "More details will come. You'll see. In the meantime, I have my people checking the hotels for anyone matching her description. If she's a tourist and she was here alone, it may be a few days before it's realized she's gone missing. Ah! I smell magdalenas."

"I'm surrounded by detectives." Marguerite put a plate of small, yellow muffins in the center of the table and Louise followed with plates of eggs and fruit. "And I don't want to hear one person say they're not hungry. It's no disrespect to anyone if you eat breakfast and you'll think better with full stomachs."

"Actually –" Frank caught the muffin that sailed his way. "I was going to say, I appreciate how well you've been taking care of us and I hope to find a way to repay your kindness one day."

"Start by eating everything on your plate and end by leaving the detective work to Uncle Victor and his men."

There was an awkward silence around the table.

"Ree," said Fenton. "I think Victor has already proven that Frank and Joe are an asset to the case."

"As witnesses, not as detectives. Those men are still out there and at least two of them wanted Frank dead. Do you think they'd hesitate to finish the job if they ran into him again?"

"They've taken down bigger bad guys than these punks."

"And yet here he sits battered and bruised."

"He wasn't expecting trouble yesterday," Fenton defended. "Now he's looking for it. He'll be fine."

Clearly she wasn't buying it. "Men," she muttered under her breath then got up and left the table.

Frank excused himself next after only eating a few bites of breakfast. Joe started to go after him but Fenton reached across the table to stop him.

"Finish your breakfast."

Joe continued to gaze at the path that led back to the house. "I just don't think he should be alone."

"He's not alone and he knows it. Give him a few minutes then you can go check on him."

Joe reluctantly gave in to his father's wishes by jabbing his fork into a slice of mango as if it were one of the men who had hurt his brother.

At that, Victor downed the last of his coffee then pushed back his seat. "As much as I'm loath to continue the trend, I should take my leave as well."

"Captain Rivera," said Joe. "You'll find Lisa, right? Her body, I mean? Even if they dumped her in the ocean?"

"Most likely. The sea has many secrets but she likes to give up the dead. Today we give thanks that it's only one body, yes?" He turned to Fenton and offered his hand. "I'll call you later this afternoon and let you know how the investigation is going." When Fenton started to rise, he waved him back down. "This used to be my home, too, so certainly, I can see myself out."

When he was gone, Joe picked up his fork, stabbed at his eggs then let it fall back on the plate. "I'm not really hungry, either. I guess I'll go upstairs and unpack. We are going to be staying awhile, aren't we?"

"A few more days at least."

With that, Joe went inside, too leaving Fenton on the patio with only the butterflies for company.

* * *

><p>"Lisa!"<p>

"Joe."

"Joe?" Frank turned his head and saw his brother sitting in the overstuffed reading chair that filled the East corner of the room. He brought his gaze back to center and stared up at the ceiling letting the feeling of soft and comforting slowly erase the feeling of cold, hard and damp.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Couple of hours."

Again Frank turned his head to look at his brother. "You been sitting there the whole time?"

Joe shrugged sheepishly. "If you forget the pool, the tennis courts, the skeet shooting range and the game room, there's really not much to do around here."

Frank laughed slightly and that made Joe's grin widen.

"Well, if you're bored then I guess you won't mind taking a ride with me."

The smile fell off Joe's face. "Where?"

Frank sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "To find the place where they took me. If I can find the beach where we stopped I can probably figure it out from there. We were only in the van for maybe ten minutes and it had to be someplace secluded. Can't be too many buildings around the beach that fit what I remember."

"Are we going to tell Dad what we're doing?"

"You don't have to come," said Frank, which was the same as a no answer.

"Are you kidding? I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again."

"That could be a problem. Since I'm about to go to the bathroom."

Joe laughed. "Okay, we'll make that the one exception."

Frank disappeared into the bathroom which was larger than his whole bedroom back home, while Joe fought with himself to stay seated. Part of him wanted to go right to Fenton to tell him what they were about to do. Another part of him wanted to keep it a secret. He was pretty sure Fenton would object. Even though he'd defended their inclusion in front of Marguerite at the breakfast table, he suspected it would be a different story one-on-one. He'd probably insist on going along and that was something Joe didn't want. He wanted the time alone with Frank. Wanted to be the one to help him through this terrible time. It was ridiculously selfish, but after last night's argument, he really needed to know that he was back in his brother's favor.

No. This was one case where ask forgiveness, not permission was the best option. He only hoped he wouldn't regret that decision later on.

* * *

><p>Marguerite knocked once on the door to Fenton's bedroom then let herself in. He was on the phone but waved for her to stay.<p>

"I'm not sure how much longer well be here, but I'm sure I won't make it back I time for the Rowley deposition. Can you manage without me? Great. I'll let you know, and Henry, keep this to yourself please? Okay. Goodbye." He hung up with a heavy sigh. "Postponing our return once was bad enough but now a second time?" He sat down on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I keep thinking that this wouldn't have happened had we left last week like we were supposed to."

"You can't think like that. Our lives change with every decision. If you'd gone back last week you might have crashed in a hurricane or got hit by a car as soon as you left the airport."

He looked up at her quizzically. "I know you're trying to make me feel better but. . ."

She sat down on the bed beside him close enough for him to take her hand and pull it into his lap.

"Did you know that the boys went out? Carlos just told me. He met them in the garage, offered to drive them but they said no and took the rental."

"I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. It's too early to talk to anyone at the club so I imagine Frank is trying to find the cove where it happened."

"And this honestly doesn't concern you? What if they find the location and the bad guys are still there?"

"They'd have to be pretty stupid to hang around a crime scene."

"Darling, they kidnapped and assaulted two innocent people for sport. I'd say they're not the brightest cows in the barn."

True enough. He lifted the back of her fingers to his lips. "Don't worry. Joe's with him. They'll be fine." She started to protest but he cut her words off with a kiss. "Please Ree, don't fight me on this."

"I just hate that from now on Frank's memory of this place will be something so awful. He'll never want to return and I don't know what that means for us . . . which reminds me. You were going to leave on that plane today without telling them the truth about us. Why? I'm sure they want you to be happy and if this is what makes you happy-"

Fenton stood up with a groan. "They won't understand. I'm old enough to be your father."

"Barely!"

"Still. . . I can't take this on right now. We need to find the men who did this and then we can move on." He picked up the phone receiver and dialed.

"Now who are you calling?"

"Victor. He has to have -" he turned away from her and said into the phone. "Captain Rivera, please. Fenton Hardy." He listened a moment then 'uh huh'd' a few times, said thank you in Spanish, then hung up. "Tell me something. You're a girl."

"Glad you noticed."

He made a face at her. "Would you come to this town on your own? Lisa did ask Frank for a ride home from the club, so she must have gone to the club alone."

"Not necessarily. If she had eyes for Frank, playing stranded damsel is an excellent way to get some alone time on a moonlit night."

"So no qualms about getting into a car with a stranger?"

"He said he met her on the beach last week, so not a complete stranger, and if she was there with friends they'd know who she left with if there was trouble. They'd know where to look."

"But they didn't look. The officer I just spoke to said that no one's been reported missing and they haven't found a single Lisa registered at any of the hotels here in town. "

"Not a tourist then. She lives here. She led Frank to that beach remember, so maybe she goes there often, say with a variety of young men and one of them didn't like it?"

"Which would mean this wasn't random. She was targeted and Frank just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time." Fenton thought that through a moment then shook his head. "Only one thing wrong with that theory. Frank sounded sure these guys had done this before. That doesn't fit with a jealous boyfriend out for revenge."

"Personally, I like our version of the crime better than Frank's. If Lisa was the target, then this is over. If it was random, then these guys are getting ready to do it again and now that they've killed it'll be much easier to kill a second time."


	3. Chapter 3

**NOTE: Looks like I'll be wrapping this up in four parts. Thanks for the comments and I hope you enjoy the ride!**

**The Hardy Boys: House of Cards: Chapter Three**

Frank had no trouble finding his way back to the club. It lay directly between Villa Rivera and the surfing club where he had spent the majority of his days since they arrived three weeks ago.

"When the club opens tonight we should go back to talk to the regulars," Joe suggested. "Maybe they can give us more on Lisa or maybe they saw someone follow you two when you left."

"Maybe," Frank replied lost in thought. "When we left, we went straight to the coast road." He drove passed the closed club and continued west until the ocean appeared on the horizon. "I remember we went around some sharp curves that were pretty hairy in the dark. We were talking so I can't be sure of the time but it was only a few minutes or more before we stopped."

He took a curve with more speed than was wise and the car fishtailed making Joe grab on to the dash.

"Slow down a little, will ya? You had to be traveling slower last night, so try to match the speed." That sounded like good detective work and not fear, so Frank complied.

"I remember this hulking shape in the dark and right after that she told me to turn. I wasn't even sure we weren't driving off a cliff until we came around this bend. . ."

"Hulking shape?" Joe pointed toward what looked like an anchor off the world's largest pirate ship. It was rusted and aged by the sea air and at the base was a sign advertising a restaurant with an arrow indicating the turn into the parking lot. It would have been impossible to see during the night, but in the light of day the entrance was obvious. Frank turned in, then rolled down a gravel drive and around a tight bend to a dirt lot. To the right was a short pier with a building that had obviously been condemned long ago.

"Could that be where they took you?"

"No, we drove someplace and I couldn't hear the ocean."

You could hear the ocean here as it pounded away at the beach and the pilings that made up the old pier. Frank got out of the car and Joe followed him down on to the beach.

"Frank? This girl?"

"Lisa."

"You weren't like . . ."

"What?" Frank turned his face into the wind and it whipped at his hair. "In love with her? Because I decided to have sex with her on the beach?"

Joe winced a little from the coldness of the statement. He wasn't a prude, but he still wasn't very comfortable discussing these kinds of things with his brother. "It's not like you, that's all." A hard wave came up further than the previous two, forcing Joe to step back rather than get wet. Frank didn't move. He stayed put, letting the salt water soak his sneakers and the hem of his jeans.

"Maybe I'm tired of being like me."

Joe had to forcibly restrain a moan. This was more of the same talk that had started the fight the night before.

Frank leaned down and picked up a piece of wood that had rolled in with the tide. "You know Dad is sleeping with Marguerite."

"What?" Joe laughed, than cursed as an unexpected wave caught him around the ankles. He jumped back but it was too late to save himself a soaking. "Where did you get a crazy idea like that? She's like our age and he's almost fifty. And besides, he's Dad!"

"And dads don't have sex? I'm pretty sure ours did, at least twice."

Which made Joe think of his deceased mother, another topic he wasn't comfortable discussing.

"Can we do what we came here to do?"

"Sure." Frank tossed the wood back into the sea then turned and headed to the car. At the last second, he veered off toward the old restaurant. He scooped up an object off the beach, gave it only a quick glance, and then threw it at Joe. Coming at him, Joe thought it was a jellyfish, but after he avoided catching it he realized that the tentacles were actually strands of clothesline knotted together. He picked it up and saw the blood embedded in the fibers. His brother's blood. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Frank's story but holding the proof in his hands made Joe sick. "Frank-"

"Come on. Let's find that building."

Joe was about to drop the rope but his detective training said, 'evidence.' He stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket where it lay heavier than the actual weight.

* * *

><p>They drove up and down every street within ten miles of the cove mentally checking off every store, home, office and restaurant. After two hours they found a dirt road that took them up a hill and behind a fish cannery. Beyond that, was a building that resembled a small airplane hangar.<p>

"This is it, isn't it?" Joe shifted in his seat suddenly not so interested in exploring. "Do you think she's still in there?"

"I don't know." Frank cut the car's engine then sat there a moment looking at the walls that had been his prison for one night.

"We should go find a phone, call Captain Rivera."

"Not yet." Frank got out of the car then slowly approached the building. Joe didn't want to follow but he couldn't let his brother face this alone, so he gathered his courage and fell into step

Entering the building was tough for Joe and it got tougher when Frank came to a sudden halt right inside the door. Joe had never seen his brother so rattled. The guy who had unflinchingly lifted the lid on Dracula's tomb was now frozen at the sight of an empty room.

"It's not how I pictured it. I thought it would be dirtier." Frank walked forward with faltering steps then stopped in front of a wooden post that was holding up the ceiling. He stooped down and dragged one finger over the rough corner edge. Joe stooped down, too and saw the streaks of blood.

"I kept rubbing my wrists against this post whenever I thought I could get away with it. Like when Lisa was screaming. I knew their eyes would be on her and her voice covered the sound, not that it mattered in the end." Frank pushed up to standing and scanned the big room. "They cleaned up after themselves. Didn't even leave a beer can on the ground."

"That's a shame, we could have gotten fingerprints if they'd left their trash behind," said Joe even though he knew fingerprints wasn't what his brother was looking for. "I think it's time we called police"

"In a minute." Frank moved deeper into the building examining every bit of nothing. Near the back wall he stopped and stooped down again this time in front of a hatch in the floor.

"Wonder where this goes?"

"Frank, leave it for the cops. Let's go."

"I left her behind once; I'm not going to do it again." He slipped his fingers into the handle opening and then, with a deep breath, yanked open the hatch. Joe stayed well away watching his brother's face for a clue but he couldn't read what he saw there.

"Is she. . .?" Joe inched forward then peered down into the hole. Nothing. Empty. No body. Joe wasn't sure if he that was a good thing or a bad thing. He decided on good. Lisa needed to be found for everyone's closure but for Frank to find her stuffed inside a cistern? That simply would have been too much.

Joe squeezed Frank's shoulder and kept it there as Frank rose up to his full height.

"Let's go home."

"Home meaning Villa Rivera?"

"Home as in Bayport."

"Not yet." Frank turned and fully caught his brother's eye. "I at least have to go back to the club tonight and see if anyone can tell me more about Lisa. Her last name, where she was living. She has family somewhere, Joe and they may not be worried about her right now, but they deserve to know what happened. Believe me, not knowing is much worse than the truth. If I can get a lead on her family and Captain Rivera doesn't need me, we'll go home."

"All right, but for now, can we at least go home to Villa Rivera."

"Let's find a phone booth first. Maybe the police can find something here that will help."

Joe doubted it, but he was glad for any excuse to get Frank away from this cold building that would certainly be the setting of many future nightmares.

* * *

><p>Joe found his father sitting alone in the garden. The breakfast dishes were gone now and in their place were a large coffee carafe and a plate of pastries. Fenton had a legal pad with scribbled notes at his elbow and a stack of files in front of him.<p>

"What's all this?"

Fenton looked up from the file he was reading. "You're not the only detective in the family."

Joe felt his face flush a little. "I guess you know we went out."

"Looking for the crime scene, yes. Captain Rivera told me you found it."

Joe pulled out a chair, sat down, then poured himself a cup of coffee. "It was just this big, empty storage space but I felt sick going in there. No Lisa and they didn't leave any other clues that we could see, just. . . " Forget the blood. Don't talk about the blood. Joe took a sip of the too hot coffee and was instantly sorry he did. "Wow, that's hot. So what's in the files?"

"Possible suspects. We pulled the jackets on non-natives who've gotten into trouble in the past. I like this one for Lisa's killer." Fenton tapped the file he was currently reading. "He's from Texas. Southern American accent but not too twangy," he said, quoting Frank's earlier observation. "He was arrested for assault a few months ago, but the girl dropped the charges. Few other run-ins for disturbing the peace, trespassing. He's a guy to likes to break the rules, that's for sure."

Joe waited for his father to hand over the file but after a few seconds it was clear that Fenton wasn't going to share the name or the photo.

"We can show his picture around at the club tonight, see if anyone remembers seeing him there."

"That's the plan."

"Oh, you're back!" Marguerite came out on to the patio and stood by Fenton's chair. "I was worried about the both of you. Is Frank okay?"

"He's fine." Joe said, but in his head he heard his brother saying that Dad and Marguerite were sleeping together. He eyed them both, looking for any sign that this could be true but he didn't see anything that wasn't there before. She was obviously genuinely fond of Fenton, but then he'd been a family friend for a very long time. Back from when he was a young soldier, before he was a cop in New York. Something about a military coup in a small South American country. Joe honestly couldn't remember the details since he'd only heard the story once and very long ago. He turned his attention back to the file folders. "You want some help going through those? A second set of eyes?"

"No. It's not much. I've got it. Why don't you go take a swim, burn off some of that excess energy. There's nothing else we can do until the club opens tonight."

"Okay." Joe got up and took his coffee with him. When he reached the patio door, he looked back and saw Marguerite put her hand on his father's shoulder. Perfectly innocent. Frank was nuts.

* * *

><p>Frank would have preferred to go back to the nightclub alone but he knew that would never fly. For at least part of the evening, he'd have to tolerate the presence of not only his father and brother, but Captain Rivera, too.<p>

They started with the bouncer and the bartender. Both remembered seeing Frank with the pretty, young woman but neither of them could add to what they already knew. They got even less as they worked the crowd, not a single person wanting to get involved with the police. Didn't matter. Frank would get everything he needed once Rivera and his father were gone. Then he'd be able to sit in the corner and listen. That's how he was going to pick out the guys who had done this, by listening to them party with their pals like it was any other night. One of the three might have been scared off by the crime, but the other two were show-offs. They weren't going to go into hiding even with a potential witness on their tail. After all, he couldn't identify them, not really, and with no body, no forensics, the chances of picking them up for murder were slim and none.

Bored with the official investigation, Frank wandered to the far end of the bar and sat down on a stool. He recognized the girl behind the counter even though her back was turned because she also spent a lot of time with the surfers during the day.

"Penny. Can I get a beer?"

"Sure." She turned and had no time to cover the surprise on her face. "Frank. What are you doing here?"

"Not getting a beer, apparently."

"Oh, sorry." She grabbed a mug and filled it from a large tap handle. "I thought you were going home today."

"I was supposed to fly out this morning but someone tried to kill me last night so I figured I'd stick around and try to find out who."

Penny set the mug in front of him but her hand was shaking so much the beer sloshed over the side. She cursed in Spanish then grabbed a rag to wipe up the spill.

"Don't play poker," said Frank and that confused her. "You don't hide your emotions very well. What do you know about it?"

"I can't." She tried to move away but he grabbed her wrist. "They killed a girl, Penny. The girl I left with last night." He leaned further over the bar as he pulled her closer so he didn't have to yell over the noise. "They kidnapped us off the beach and made me listen while they raped and murdered her. If you know who it was, you tell me."

Penny glanced around and saw something that frightened her more than Frank. With her free hand, she knocked over the freshly poured beer, dumping the contents over the bar where it rivered down into Frank's lap.

"Damn it!" He let go of her arm as he jumped back to avoid the spill but he wasn't fast enough. Penny took off as the entourage appeared at his side.

"Something you said?" Joe.

That's why she took off, because she was scared of the police, not one of the perpetrators.

"Look, we're not getting anywhere with this crowd," Fenton said, setting both hands on Frank's shoulders from behind. "Let's go back to the villa and get a good night's rest, okay?"

"Sure, Dad. Just give me a minute to wash out the beer." Frank slid off the barstool and shot Joe a look that said 'don't you dare follow me.' He cut through the crowd, then under the archway that marked the restrooms but at the last second he ducked into the women's bathroom instead of the men's.

"What are you doing!" Penny squeaked as Frank grabbed her arm and pulled her into a stall.

"I understand you don't want to talk to the police, but you're going to talk to me. You were surprised to see me and not just because you thought I'd gone home. You know something."

"Please, . . . " She slipped into Spanish as her anxiety level rose along with the pitch in her voice.

"English. Where are they? Who are they?"

Penny took a gasping breath then leaned in to whisper in Frank's ear. "After one o'clock tonight. Around the back, there is a red door. It's for private parties."

"And they'll be there?"

She nodded.

"And you're not going to warn them." Frank squeezed her arm tighter than he should have just to make to his point.

"I won't. I don't want to be involved. It's only because I speak English. I hear things others don't."

Because his abductors spoke English, so he knew she was telling him the truth.

Something was up. It wasn't the dirty look on the way to the men's room. That fit in with Frank's recent desire to cut the strings with his baby brother. But Frank agreeing to leave the club at the first suggestion? That was weird. The club was their only link to Lisa and the kidnappers and yet he didn't even protest when their father said it was time to go.

Joe knew he'd get nothing in the car, so he held his tongue and waited until they were back at Villa Rivera.

"Do you have to follow me everywhere I go?" Frank complained when Joe tailed him into his bedroom. "I'm about to take a shower and yes, it's big enough for two, but you wouldn't be my first choice of companion."

"What's up?" Joe asked bluntly, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "Did you find out something? Did you pick out one of them in the crowd? Recognize his voice?"

"No. If I had, don't you think I would have pointed him out to Captain Rivera?" Frank stripped off his beer stained shirt then threw it in Joe's direction.

"I don't think you would. I think you want these guys for yourself and that's stupid. There's three of them and two of them have proved they're happy to kill. Why would you walk into that alone?"

"I'm not walking into anything! And I really don't need advice from my kid brother." He kicked off his shoes, flinging one hard against the wall. "I'm not a child. I can take care of myself."

"Oh sure." Joe closed the gap between them so quickly and so unexpectedly, Frank didn't even have a chance to move. "Here's you, taking care of yourself." He grabbed Frank's rubbed raw wrist and waved it in front of his eyes. "If it wasn't for that guy's pang of conscience, you'd be at the bottom of the ocean right now with a bullet in your head!"

Frank yanked his arm away then gave Joe a shove in the shoulder. "If I die, I die. At least I went out standing on my own two feet, like a man. I don't need you anymore! Now leave me alone!" He marched into the bathroom and slammed the door hard enough to shift a painting on the same wall.

Joe just stood there, his brother's vicious words stinging like a slap in the face. "You do need me, Frank," Joe said aloud to himself. "And I need you. You gotta let me in."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Hardy Boys: House of Cards: Chapter Four**

Frank lay in bed, watching the clock and listening to the sounds in the house until it was 12:30. He heard his father and Marguerite talking for a bit, then Fenton checked in on him but he pretended to be asleep. No Joe. It was too much to hope that he was in his own room, sound asleep.

His little brother had made it clear that Frank wasn't going anywhere without him. Which was a problem, but not a big one. Of course, it was going to make Joe even more upset with him but it couldn't be helped. This was his fight and he was going to finish it alone.

Moving around the room with practiced care, Frank got dressed, grabbed his wallet then went downstairs.

Joe was sitting on the bottom step, back to the railing, feet against the wall. To get past him, Frank would have to step over him.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you out of my sight," Joe said, erasing any hope that he might be asleep.

"Seriously, you're killing me here." Frank stopped on the second step and peered down at his stubborn brother. "Fine. You want in on this? You have to do what I say and be quiet. I don't want anyone to know we're leaving."

"No problem," Joe whispered, then he got to his feet. "Lead on."

Frank grabbed the rental car keys from the table where his father had left them then as quietly as possible, opened the front door and waved for Joe to go through. This was it. One shot at it and he'd have to be smart and quick.

"I found something. You're not going to believe it." Frank walked down the path in front of the house but when he reached the rental car he kept on going.

"Wait?" Joe said, jogging slightly to keep up. "You found something here?"

"Yes. Now be quiet before someone hears you."

Joe glanced around at dark gardens and the barely lit house. "Like who?"

Frank silenced him with a look. He picked up speed, leading Joe further around a bend to an old garage. It was hard to see where they were going. The moon wasn't as bright as it had been the night before and the trees were thicker here, blocking most of the outdoor lighting from the house. Joe tripped once but caught himself before he went face first into the gravel.

The garage was closed with a plank of wood set into brackets on the two double doors. Frank lifted the plank, leaned it against the left door then opened the right. It squealed unmercifully making both boys cringe. A night bird cried back a response and that was followed by the sound of an animal in the underbrush.

"What are we doing out here?" Joe complained.

"I told you. I found something. Go in carefully, there's a flashlight on the table when you walk in. Go to the back and look in the tool chest."

"For what?"

"Just do it." Frank glanced around, making a big show of his concern. "I'll keep watch."

"For who? Carlos?"

Frank said nothing.

"You think Carlos had something to do with what happened to you?"

"Will you go look already!" Frank snapped under his breath.

"Okay, okay but I don't believe it." Joe stepped into the garage, feeling around in the dark until he found the flashlight. He switched it on and moved to the back wall to examine the old, wooden toolbox.

"Sorry little brother." Knowing the door was going to squeak when he moved it, Frank had no choice but to move fast. He swung the garage door closed then hefted the plank into place, locking the doors tight from the outside.

"Frank!" Joe pounded on the door and Frank immediately worried about the wisdom of his plan. He still had a stop to make and Joe's shouts sounded louder than he expected in the night air. No going back now.

Frank raced to the house to get what he needed, praying he'd make it there and gone before Joe woke up the whole household.

* * *

><p>It was almost 1:30 when he got back to the club and the place was still alive with people. American disco music poured out into the parking lot where groups of people had gathered to smoke or just talk without having to shout.<p>

Frank parked the car at the far end of the lot then circled around to the back of the building. He hit an iron gate, which wasn't locked, and beyond that was a tiled patio with a happy group of partiers. In back of that was a long, low building with a red door and big bouncer.

Frank tried confidence first, walking right up to the door as if he'd been there a dozen times. The bouncer didn't buy it. He took one step to the left, blocking the way with his massive frame.

"Sólo con invitación."

"Invitation," Frank repeated, picking up the drift. "I'm sure I have it here somewhere." He patted his pockets and came up with a colorful piece of paper money. "My Spanish isn't very good. Is this it?"

The bouncer glanced at it then shook his head.

Frank went back into his pocket and found a second bill with a higher denomination. "This must be it."

"Sí, eso es todo." The bouncer took both bills, then stepped aside to allow Frank to enter.

The room was as red on the inside as the door on the outside. It was filled with cozy stuffed couches and bean bag chairs. The music was loud, but mellower, and there were drinks or drugs on every surface. A quick count gave him eleven guys and eight women. A lot more people than he'd hoped but it was what it was. Keeping his face turned toward the floor, he wandered through the crowd listening. At first it was all Spanish. A man and a woman were singing a mixed up version of "Dancing Queen" even though the song on the stereo was anything but. Another couple was as close to screwing each other as they could get with their clothes on and after that was a group of guys huddled around lines of cocaine.

One of them, a tall blond with a trim beard, gave another a shove then stood up. "I'm taking that boat out tomorrow and all y'all can just wave bye bye from the shore."

English, with a Southern accent. Frank's stomach turned over. There was no mistaking the voice. Frank listened some more as he skirted around to the far side of the room. Texas. That's what it was. He was from Texas and he was the one who killed Lisa.

One of the cocaine boys called him Garrett and whatever followed made Garrett laugh. Then he turned on his heels, probably heading for the bar, but Frank was in his way.

For a second there was nothing. Then recognition spread across his face along with a helping of surprise.

"Party's over, pal," Frank said, his voice low and menacing. "Time for you and I to take a walk."

* * *

><p>Joe pounded and shouted until his arms hurt and his voice was nearly gone. He didn't know for sure, but estimated that at least twenty minutes had passed before Carlos heard the noise and came to let him out.<p>

He tore up the front walk, ran into the house then took the stairs in twos. Where earlier he'd been trying hard not to wake his father, this time he wanted the exact opposite.

"Dad!" He knocked once on his father's door then opened it only to find it empty, the bed made. Flashbacks of the other morning, and Frank's room in the same condition confused him for a second and then his father spoke from behind him.

"Joe? What's going on?"

"It's Frank." He got those words out before his brain took in Fenton's half-dressed state and the fact that he'd come out of Marguerite's room. "He locked me in the garage. He's going after them."

"Back to the club?"

"I guess. I think he found out something when we were there earlier, but he wouldn't tell me. He made up this story about Carlos and locked me in to keep me from following him. We have to – " Again Joe was distracted, this time by Marguerite in the doorway behind his father.

"He probably took the rental," she said. "I'll get you the keys to my car." She moved past both men, then ran down the stairs.

"Get the keys. I'll be right there."

Fenton went to his room and Joe followed Marguerite. He caught up to her as she went through the kitchen and into a workroom.

"Damn it!"

"What?" Joe ran in after her and saw the doors were open on the gun cabinet. All of the skeet shooting rifles were there, but from the look on Marguerite's face, Joe knew something else was missing.

"The gun's gone. A 45. Frank had to have taken it."

"He helped Victor lock up the rifles after we shot skeet last week. He must have seen it." Joe could hardly breathe thanks to the tension in his chest. Frank on the revenge trail was bad enough, but Frank with a gun? "He just took it for protection. He wouldn't shoot those guys. Even after what they did. He wouldn't."

But he couldn't convince her if he couldn't convince himself.

"Just pray he's at the club and that you get there in time."

"I'm praying, Marguerite, believe me. I'm praying."

* * *

><p>"Really? You think you're going to switch the game up on me? Just like that? Walk into my house and take over." Garrett leaned in and smiled in the same way Frank had imagined him smiling when he'd strangled Lisa with his bare hands. "You've got guts, buddy. Real guts. But that's not going to save you when I call my compadres to help."<p>

"Go for it." Frank punctuated the sentence by pressing the gun into Garrett's stomach. "I'll get you before they get me." Frank wanted to press the gun to the guy's head. Make him feel what it was like to have cold steel against your temple, but this wasn't the place to do it. Not with so many people around. "Now walk."

Garrett was sweating it now. "Whoa, man. You're all getting righteous over nothing!"

"Nothing?" Frank snapped, then glanced around to see if he'd drawn any attention. "A girl's dead and you call that nothing. You sick bastard." He pressed forward with the gun and Garrett countered by stumbling backwards in the direction of the door. "Keep moving."

"No, man, seriously." Garrett brought his hands up and Frank tensed, expecting an attack. "I'm not—just look." Garrett waved his hand as if beckoning someone over. Frank shifted and scanned the crowd, suddenly not sure about the strength of his position. "Maggie, tell him."

Frank shifted again as he felt the woman move up close. He got around Garrett's side, opening up the space to reveal the weapon but it wasn't the gun that surprised her, or him.

"Lisa?"

"Maggie, actually. I can't believe you came back here. Here you are ready to shoot this idiot to avenge my death. That's so sweet."

"What?" It was too much for Frank's brain to process.

"It was a game, man," said Garrett. "She gets off on it, the whole abduction thing and ya'll going to pieces thinking she's dead. That you're next."

"So, if you shoot him," Lisa said, moving closer to Frank. "You'll be the only murderer around here and I'd hate to see a nice guy like you go to jail over a prank."

"Prank? Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder."

"We never had any intention of killing you. I told you, lover, it was just a game." She cupped his cheek and he slapped her hand away. That caught the eye of a young black man who was ready to step in until he, too recognized Frank.

"Oh shit, really?" Then he turned to Lisa and said, "I told you this one was different. That he wasn't going to be intimidated as easily as the others."

"That's why I picked him. My hero." Again she moved in, this time setting her hands on Frank's chest and again he pushed her away in disgust.

More people were eying them now so Frank tucked the gun back into his waistband then drew his windbreaker in tight to hide it. "You think you're going to just walk away from this?"

"Of course we are," said Lisa. "There are four of us and one of you. So if we tell the police that you were in on it, that it was all one, big, kinky, sex game. Who do you think they'll believe?"

Frank laughed. "Oh lady, you really chose the wrong victim this time."

* * *

><p>Garrett kept on laughing right up until the moment Captain Rivera showed up to supervise the arrests personally.<p>

"I've already taken the liberty of notifying your father," Rivera told the young man as an officer snapped on the cuffs. "I'm sure he'll want to send his very best lawyer."

The look on Garrett's face said he knew it wasn't true. As he was being taken away, Rivera turned to the Hardy's and said, "His father owns a large ranch in Texas and his words to me were, do what you must, I wash my hands of the boy. And while I'm pleased to hear that no one actually died, I do wish I could hit them with more than just kidnapping and assault."

"I have a feeling that if you dig deep enough," said Frank. "You'll find more."

"But for tonight, we have enough to hold them all for a long time." He clapped Frank on the back then excused himself with work to be done.

As soon as he was gone, Fenton stepped up face-to-face with his son. Despite the fact that they'd caught the bad guys, he wasn't happy.

"I think you have something that doesn't belong to you."

Frank reached into his jacket and pulled out the revolver keeping it low and hidden by their bodies.

"Is it loaded?"

He nodded, then swung the chamber out to show that it was.

"Jesus, Frank. I don't even know what to say about this." Fenton took the gun from him, dumped the bullets into his hand then put it all in opposite pockets. "I know you think I don't always treat you like an adult. Well, I'm telling you now, get used to it, because when we get back to the house, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen."

"Yes, sir," Frank replied with just a hint of defiance in his voice.

Fenton was only able to hold his temper by walking away, then Joe took his place.

"Don't you start on me."

"It was stupid Frank. I was stupid. I knew you were up to something and I should have told Dad."

"I said don't start," Frank snapped back, low and angry. "I feel like enough of a fool as it is. They used me, I was nothing but pawn in a game."

"I'm glad," Joe said, the words barely able to pass the lump in his throat.

"Glad?"

"That you weren't in any real danger because maybe knowing that I can stop seeing images of your body in the morgue. We love you, Frank. Dad and I. That's why I get pushy and why he gets mad. Because we can't bear the thought of losing you. Me, especially. And I know what you've been saying, how we're not kids anymore but I'm still your brother. I'm always going to be your brother, even if I stop being your best friend."

"Joe, I'm never going to be closer to anyone than I am to you, but this whole ordeal really made me think about my life and where I'm going."

"Where are you going?"

Frank slung his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Right now? I'm going back to Villa Rivera and then we're all going home."

"Sounds good." Joe took a step, spotted his father in the distance than stopped dead. "Oh boy. I forgot. I saw. . . you were right."

"I got that last part."

"Dad and Marguerite! I was looking for him and he wasn't in his room and he was with her and I think they were. . . you know."

"Well, good for them."

"Good for them? No. Not good for them. Not good for me, I don't want that image in my brain."

Frank laughed as he pulled Joe closer. "You have a lot of problems with images in your brain lately." And as he said it, he got an image of his own – Lisa, beneath him on the beach. He caught her eye just before they put her in the police car. She smiled wide and mimed a kiss. "She took me to that beach, led me on, knowing that her friends were going to torment me the rest of the night." Frank caught himself as if he hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I'm glad Dad found someone. I guess it's just going to take you and me a little longer."

"I'm in no hurry," said Joe but Frank couldn't say the same. Having a gun pressed to his head had made that clock tick faster. There were things he wanted to do with his life, but for now, getting back home to Bayport was the highest priority on his list.

The End


End file.
